My Shijie Seems Intent on Destroying the World – Chapter 23
by Little PandaQuestioning the Heart
Seeing Through a Haze
The day they left Qingxi Commandery, the snow by the roadside had half-melted.
The morning wind was wet and cold, sweeping down a few fragments of snow from the eaves, carrying with it a bone-chilling chill.
Before the sky had fully brightened, Ah Yun had already led a horse carriage and was waiting outside the inn.
Qi Zhi had left the charcoal brazier and was so cold she barely wanted to move. She was wrapped in a clean white cloak, half her small face buried into the cloak’s soft fur collar.
Mu Qingshi walked up from behind her, carrying a faint plum fragrance, and pressed a hand warmer into her hands.
Qi Zhi held the hand warmer, stunned for a moment. Hearing Ah Yun call out to hurry, she quickly followed behind Mu Qingshi and climbed into the carriage.
The hand warmer was small and delicate, infused with a light, elegant plum fragrance. A soft blue cloud-patterned cloth bag fitted snugly around it. It was warm to hold but never burned.
Qi Zhi looked down at the hand warmer, the corners of her lips curving upward without her noticing.
She hadn’t seen anything like this in Mu Qingshi’s room these past few days…
Could it be that, worried she’d be cold on the road and unable to keep a charcoal brazier burning at all times, Mu Qingshi had specially asked Ah Yun to buy one for the journey?
The cloak on her body was shijie’s. The hand warmer in her hands was shijie’s too.
Then she should probably say thank you, right?
Qi Zhi thought about it and said softly, “Thank you, shijie.”
Mu Qingshi smiled faintly and said nothing more, simply leaning against one corner of the carriage and slowly closing her eyes.
Ah Yun drove the carriage out of Qingxi Commandery, following a wide road full of rutted tracks, racing over the mud left by melting snow.
Qi Zhi couldn’t resist lifting the thick cotton curtain by the window and pushing the window open a crack. Braving the biting wind that rushed at her face, she watched the unfamiliar scenery streaming past outside.
From the bottom of her heart, a nameless excitement suddenly stirred.
In the ten-odd days since leaving the mountain, she had lived in a daze, nothing feeling quite real.
Only now, feeling the cold wind of the road, watching the world constantly shifting before her eyes, did she belatedly realize—she had truly bid farewell to the past and set foot on a wholly unknown, long road.
Mu Qingshi was right beside her, just as she had once yearned for with all her heart—to take her to many places she had never been, to show her how vast the world beyond the mountains could be.
But the path to this journey had been winding, leaving her with lingering unease she couldn’t shake. She no longer knew how to cling to Mu Qingshi and chat about everything under the sun the way she used to.
Truthfully, she didn’t even know how long these relatively peaceful days could last. She could only tell herself in her heart: take it one day at a time, make do for now.
When the day came that she could no longer get by, she’d see whether she’d be eaten or what…
The carriage traveled fast, and the wind outside grew even more biting. Qi Zhi didn’t watch for long before ducking her head back in, hugging the hand warmer and shivering.
She thought, it really was cold outside.
Ah Yun had been sitting outside driving the whole time—wasn’t she freezing?
No, that wasn’t right. Ah Yun was so powerful, with protective spiritual power on her body. She must be impervious to heat and cold. A little grass like herself with a damaged spiritual root couldn’t compare in the slightest.
Then what about Mu-shijie?
Was her spiritual root truly destroyed, or was it fake—a show put on for others?
If it was real, would she feel the cold too?
Qi Zhi couldn’t help but look at Mu Qingshi, seated by the opposite window.
Her eyes were closed, her lips pale, her brow slightly furrowed. Her slender figure swayed with the carriage, as though she wasn’t resting peacefully.
Qi Zhi pursed her lips and quietly shifted to Mu Qingshi’s side. She extended a finger and gently touched the back of her hand.
So cold, like ice—
Qi Zhi hesitated for a moment. When she looked up, she happened to meet Mu Qingshi’s newly opened eyes.
After a brief stunned pause, she lowered her head and pressed the hand warmer from her lap into Mu Qingshi’s hands, holding it firmly.
Mu Qingshi: “I’m not cold.”
Qi Zhi: “Liar, your hands are like ice.”
Mu Qingshi couldn’t help but laugh. “My hands are cold, so that means I’m cold?”
Qi Zhi: “What else would it mean?”
“Then I suppose I am cold,” Mu Qingshi replied, her eyes curving as she looked at Qi Zhi. “Keep me warm, shimei.”
Qi Zhi heard this, took a moment to react, and felt that something was somehow off. She silently withdrew her hands and shifted a little to the side.
It was the dead of winter. Without the little hand warmer, Qi Zhi’s hands tucked inside her cloak soon turned cold.
She huddled in the corner of the carriage and shrank in on herself. The very small movement did not escape Mu Qingshi’s eyes.
Mu Qingshi moved her fingers, and an invisible current of warmth enveloped the entire carriage.
Qi Zhi suddenly felt the air around her grow warm. She looked toward Mu Qingshi, only to see her holding the hand warmer, eyes closed once more.
Mu Qingshi slept more lightly than Qi Zhi had imagined. She didn’t dare disturb her again in the slightest.
The world beyond the mountains was so vast, and a single road so endlessly long.
The excitement in her heart gradually faded over the long, monotonous journey, replaced by a wave of drowsiness.
Qi Zhi covered her mouth and let out a large, soundless yawn. She tilted her head to one side, closed her eyes, and drifted back to sleep.
Outside, the wind kept blowing. The wheels rolled over frozen earth, bumping again and again.
A wisp of gentle spiritual light cradled her neck the entire time. She slept soundly, never noticing a thing.
By afternoon, Qi Zhi’s stomach was empty. She groggily opened her eyes.
Her cloak was wrapped snugly around her. The delicate little hand warmer had been placed back against her chest at some point, now carrying the scent of plum blossoms.
Qi Zhi sniffled. Her cheeks, flushed pink from sleeping, rubbed unconsciously against the cloak’s soft fur collar. Her drowsy gaze drifted to the side.
Mu Qingshi was sitting right across from her, her body tilted slightly.
The cotton curtain by the window had been lifted at one corner, loosely fastened to a hook on the window frame with a dark cord, revealing a small square of the scenery outside.
At some point, fine snow had begun to drift outside again, carried lightly by the wind, swirling as if trying to drift in through the window.
Inside the carriage, spiritual power held sway—cold wind couldn’t enter, and any snow that touched the barrier melted instantly.
She simply gazed out the window quietly, lost in thought.
The falling snow made no sound. Only the howling wind and the rhythmic rumble of wheels accompanied the scene.
The horizon was a hazy grey-white, silently reflected in her eyes—exceptionally clear, exceptionally cold.
What was she looking at? What was she thinking?
Mu Qingshi’s thoughts—Qi Zhi felt as though she had never touched even a single thread of them.
A sudden stubbornness rose in Qi Zhi’s heart. She widened her eyes, trying to see the person before her clearly, but it was like seeing through a haze—there was always that one layer in between.
As if sensing Qi Zhi’s gaze, Mu Qingshi slowly turned to glance at her.
Those green eyes were rounded wide from her staring, her sleep-flushed little face full of earnestness, radiating an indescribable silliness.
The small hand warmer was pressed lightly against her stomach. Before Mu Qingshi could ask anything at all, the stomach beneath it let out an urgent gurgle.
The sound wasn’t loud, yet somehow jarringly conspicuous.
Mu Qingshi couldn’t help but laugh.
Qi Zhi snapped back to her senses, furrowed her brow, and pressed hard at her disappointing stomach.
It was all Ah Yun’s fault for rushing them. She hadn’t eaten anything before setting out that morning, and now she’d woken up from hunger.
They were in the middle of nowhere—not a village ahead, not a shop behind. Who knew how long it would be before she could get something to eat…
Just as Qi Zhi was worrying with her head down, a flash of spiritual light appeared at her side, and the aroma of food reached her nose.
She looked up to find Mu Qingshi offering her two oil-paper-wrapped jianbing1, still steaming hot—clearly just warmed with spiritual power.
Qi Zhi’s eyes lit up. “How do you have these?!”
Mu Qingshi: “I knew you’d get hungry on the road, so I asked Ah Yun to buy some.”
Qi Zhi happily accepted the jianbing, blew on it, and took an enormous bite.
The crepe was filled with minced meat and thin vermicelli, pan-fried crisp on the outside and tender within, carrying a rich scallion aroma.
That single bite had Qi Zhi humming with delight, mouth full, words muffled: “These are so good!”
Mu Qingshi said softly, “I heard this is the best jianbing in Qingxi Commandery. There’s usually a line.”
Qi Zhi: “I’d never even heard of them!”
Mu Qingshi: “You barely left the inn.”
Qi Zhi swallowed the bite in her mouth and muttered under her breath, “Well, the one time I did go out, I almost got eaten…”
“Which is exactly why I bought them for you,” Mu Qingshi said with a smile, casually brushing the loose strands of hair at Qi Zhi’s temple back behind her ear.
“Thank you, shijie!” Qi Zhi said loudly.
Outside, Ah Yun, who was driving the carriage, couldn’t help turning back to ask, “What about me? I’m the one who stood in line!”
“Thank you, Ah Yun!!!” Qi Zhi craned her neck and hollered out the window.
Ah Yun: “That’s more like it!”
Qi Zhi looked back at Mu Qingshi. Seeing the warmth of amusement in her eyes, her own mood soared.
She had eaten one jianbing and still had one left. She swallowed unconsciously, looked up at Mu Qingshi, and asked softly, “Aren’t you hungry, shijie?”
“I’m not hungry,” Mu Qingshi said gently. “Don’t worry about me. There’s more if you want—I’ll heat them up for you.”
Qi Zhi felt reassured. She polished off the second crepe in a few bites, still didn’t feel full, and with a blushing face asked Mu Qingshi for two more.
Afterward, she held the water flask Mu Qingshi handed her, gulping down half of it. She contentedly patted her stomach and leaned against the window, watching the drifting snow outside.
As she watched, she murmured, “It only just stopped a few days ago, didn’t it? Why is it snowing again?”
Mu Qingshi followed her gaze for a while, then softly told her that the world was vast, and everywhere was different. The snow they saw here might not be the same snow from the road they had traveled.
Qi Zhi thought about this earnestly, then turned back with a smile and asked, “Is it like those inn waiters? They’re all called Xiao Er, but they’re different people, doing different things at different times!”
Mu Qingshi heard this and chuckled lightly. “You could understand it that way.”
Qi Zhi: “So even though the snow in Qingxi Commandery has almost melted, other places still have blizzards.”
Mu Qingshi: “Mm.”
Qi Zhi: “I thought everywhere was the same!”
Mu Qingshi: “It isn’t.”
Qi Zhi nodded and went back to watching the window, her eyes full of anticipation. She had long forgotten the complicated feelings from when she woke.
She didn’t know how long the carriage had traveled. She only knew the road was dull—sleeping and waking in turns—until nightfall, when they finally found a remote inn and stopped to rest.
But she had slept too much during the day, and now sleep eluded her entirely.
The inn’s rooms had poor soundproofing. From the adjacent room came the intermittent sound of water—Mu Qingshi had asked the waiter for hot water and was currently bathing.
The delicate little hand warmer sat on the bedside table. Qi Zhi lay on the bed with her eyes open, clutching the thick quilt, her thoughts thrown into chaos by the sounds.
She kept thinking about how the wound on Mu Qingshi’s shoulder hadn’t fully healed yet—surely bathing wasn’t very convenient.
On second thought, in this freezing cold, a hot bath would indeed help her rest better.
As her mind wandered, a reflection in a mirror surfaced unbidden in her thoughts.
Hazy, wreathed in steam, just a single thin layer of clothing clinging to damp skin…
“…”
Qi Zhi furrowed her brow and yanked the quilt up, burying her entire head underneath.
The movement made the bed frame creak, startling her.
“What kind of terrible inn is this…” she muttered under her breath.
Bad enough the soundproofing was awful—the bed was falling apart too.
How was anyone supposed to sleep?!
The author has something to say:
Qi Zhi: My brain won’t listen to me—it’s not on purpose!
Mu Qingshi: The late-night bath—entirely on purpose.
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